It's that time again! That day-after-attempt-to-retrieve-any-shred-of-dignity. And I think I'll fix the spelling since I'm here.

Go!

During the time since last we met, I have gone through drastic changes. The first being, I have unleashed my Hulk-like anger. After failing miserably to break out of an underwater tube, I quickly re-leashed that anger and went about my business.
This is fairly accurate. Except the tube wasn't underwater, it was filled with water. And the anger wasn't Hulk-like, it was more schoolgirl-like.

I heard a friend of mine say tonight that they were turned off of blogging because it was a lot of pressure. And I agree, it can be. Unless of course you treat the ol' blogger as a friend who you can tell everything to in that moment of complete trust but will completely turn around and tell everyone they possibly know, and in a way that will make them look good.

Yes, the pressure is unbearable, like waiting for the cheese on your burger to melt.
Thank you, blog.

One scarring realization within the past few days that I have been unable to convey to anyone: I feel like a drownded rat the day after I drink.

Not a drowned rat, a drownded rat. There is a difference.

Nothing unique.

But I have discovered that I feel like an even larger drowned rat, possibly even a capibara, when I don't drink.

I feel bad all the time.
Physically I mean, not depressed.

And getting piss drunk sets up a very convenient false cause.
Like kid logic; if you're going to get punished anyway, you might as well do something wrong.

But seriously, tonight was goood times. We didn't quite make it to our Eight O' Clock deadline, but we got damn close. I did make a new friend by the hot tub and get a sword drawn on me and smoke two cigarettes at the same time.
The sword wasn't drawn on me at the hot tub. The rules expressly forbid it. It's an odd rule, but a good one. No more pirate attacks after that. But seriously, don't try to sneak into Dan Roche's room. And two cigarettes at the same time? It's everything you've heard and more.

Let us see who can kill ourselves first, shall we?
Alecia and I snuck into a nearby construction site. We were going to smoke inside, but we didn't have a lighter so we ate a Twix instead. Alecia found a gap in the fence after I was unable to climb over the barbed wire. In sandals. But it was lame barbed wire. I did get a tiny cut in the center of my palm. You can't get tetanus from that, right?

*I am working very hard at fixing my computer so I can actually blog something of consequence. Bear with me, if you want to.